


Till the Cows Come Home

by Brumeier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - High School, Community: sga_saturday, Cows, Elections, Established Relationship, Family Issues, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24860965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: John is looking to rig a club election, and of course he goes to Rodney. But Rodney has a different idea.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 18
Kudos: 59
Collections: What If? AU Challenge





	Till the Cows Come Home

_The future belongs to the few of us still willing to get our hands dirty._ – Future Farmers of America

*o*

“You want me to rig the election?” Rodney asked incredulously.

John dragged him in the niche behind the water fountain. “Keep it down!”

“Well, you can’t just spring something like that on a person!”

John was already second-guessing his decision to go to Rodney, who wasn’t known for his ability to keep a secret. Or whisper. But he was the smartest guy John knew.

“If you don’t want to be president again this year, just drop out of the race,” Rodney said, sounding exasperated. “It’s not rocket science, John. And I should know.”

In addition to the advanced high school classes he was taking, Rodney was also taking second-year college-level courses. The only reason he wasn’t in college full time already was because his mom wouldn’t let him graduate early.

“I can’t drop out. My dad won’t let me. You know he wants me to be a national officer this year.”

“Then let _him_ run for chapter president.”

“Rodney.”

Rodney rolled his eyes, but John could tell he was going to say yes.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do. Who’s likely to win if you don’t?”

“Evan. And he needs it more than I do, trust me.”

Rodney’s brow furrowed. “Evan. The commune kid?”

“Yeah.” John looked over his shoulder when he heard voices, but it was only a group of cheerleaders walking past and they didn’t pay any attention to John or Rodney. “Can you keep this to yourself?”

Rodney looked wounded. “Of course I can!”

“Okay. Meet me after school. C Barn.”

“I don’t know why I let you suck me into these stupid schemes,” Rodney muttered, pushing past John.

“Keeps you from being bored,” John replied with a smirk.

*o*o*o*

“Why did we have to meet here?” Rodney asked, hovering by the door, nose wrinkled in distaste. “You know I don’t have barn boots. Or an unhealthy need to play with farm animals.”

“I have to get Mario ready for the show this weekend,” John explained. 

Mario was a blue roan shorthorn, and John had been working with him since last year as part of his Ag course. The annual fall livestock show would be his big debut, a chance to show off John’s skills as a handler. If Mario started winning ribbons, John would be able to sell him at auction for a hefty price as a stud.

“I don’t know how you can stand having a relationship with your food,” Rodney said. “It’s unsettling.”

“Mario isn’t food.”

John brushed Mario’s coat, looking for any sores, marks, or problem areas that would have to be addressed. For his part, Mario stood there calmly chewing his cud, tail swishing every so often.

“You sure about the election?” Rodney asked. 

This time he at least kept his voice down so it didn’t echo through the barn, not that it mattered. Some of the club members had soccer practice, and others were working in the paddock or with the chickens. They had C Barn to themselves.

“Why?” John asked in return. “Can’t you do it?”

“Don’t be stupid. Hacking into the school’s voting system is something a baby can do. It just seems like it would be easier to talk to your friends and ask them not to vote for you.”

“I want Evan to win fair and square,” John said. 

“But it won’t be! Jeez, have you been huffing too much methane?” Rodney paced back and forth in the doorway. “Me diverting your votes to Evan is cheating. Which is fine, whatever, it’s a stupid club election. The only way for it to be fair is for you to take your name off the ballot.”

John huffed his annoyance and Mario swung his big head around. John scratched him behind one of his ears.

“I can’t take my name off, I already told you. My dad –”

“What’s he gonna do? Take away your birthday?”

Rodney didn’t understand what John’s dad was like. Patrick Sheppard had his eldest son’s life planned out from birth to death, and everything in between. National FFA President was just one more stepping stone to John eventually taking over Flying S Ranch, which was already the biggest, most profitable cattle ranch in four counties. The Sheppards were local royalty, and not just in Ag circles; Patrick had his eye on a Senate seat and was working his way up the local political ladder.

John didn’t want any of that.

When he imagined his own future, he had a modest ranch. He’d hire someone else to do the boring management stuff, so he could ride his horse and move his cattle and do the kind of hands-on work his father had long ago stopped involving himself in.

“It’s not his life,” Rodney said softly. “Once you’re eighteen, you can do what you want. Just like me.”

John leaned his head on Mario’s neck, his arm draped over the bull’s back. “Maybe.”

“I have to go,” Rodney said. “The bus will be here soon. Call me later. Whatever you want to do, we’ll do.”

He turned and left, and John watched him go. Rodney was just as much a prisoner to his family, stuck in high school when he was smart enough to be most of the way through a Bachelor of Science degree already. John knew the second Rodney turned eighteen and didn’t need his parents – particularly his mother – to sign off on anything he did, he’d be gone without a backward glance.

John didn’t know if he was brave enough to do the same.

*o*o*o*

“What are we…mph!”

John kissed Rodney, pressing him up against the rear of the show barn. He still had Mario’s blue ribbon clutched in one hand, and he was flying pretty high on the win. High enough to drag Rodney off to a semi-secluded area instead of waiting till they could really and truly be alone.

“Wow,” Rodney panted when they finally came up for air. 

“Did you see how good Mario looked?” John asked, nuzzling against the side of Rodney’s head.

“Yes. Uh. Very stately? Can you say that about a cow?”

“He’s a bull. And you were right.”

Rodney pushed him back. “I was? Of course I was. About what?”

John laughed and darted in for a quick kiss. “I took myself out of the running for FFA president.”

Rodney looked skeptical. “Really? Why?”

“I talked to my dad last night. Really talked. And I told him what I wanted, and what I didn’t want.”

“And he listened?”

“He really did.”

It had been the first time they’d had an honest conversation since John’s mother died when he was ten. John had expected Patrick to be angry, or just not talk to him at all, but he’d been wrong on both counts.

“You still have all your limbs,” Rodney observed. “So it went okay?”

“Dad said he was proud of me, for wanting to make my own way. Just like he did.”

John was still amazed at how understanding his father had been. And wondered how different things could’ve been if they’d talked years ago.

Rodney beamed. “See? You should listen to me all the time. I’m a genius, you know.”

“You really are. And I’ll show you more appreciation later, till the cows come home.” John chuckled at his own joke. “But I have to get back for some pictures. Okay?”

“Okay.” Rodney reeled him in for one more kiss. “Go see your cow. Just make sure you shower before you come over.”

“If you’re lucky!” John called over his shoulder as he headed back to the exhibition barn. 

“You’ll do it if _you_ want to get lucky!” Rodney called back.

*o*o*o*

Evan Lorne, who worked with the livestock on the commune where he lived, won the FFA presidential election by a landslide. 

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** As so often happens when the end of the month looms, I look for a way to combine challenges in order to save myself some time. So I pondered how best to combine politics and livestock, and just as I was dropping off to sleep the other night it came to me…Future Farmers of America! Thank you, brain!


End file.
